My Appetite for Destruction: Sex & Drugs & Guns ‘N’ Roses
From then on everything accelerated. She was so eager, so wet, that we were instantly one. The taste of her skin was both salty and sweet. We moved awkwardly at first, then got into a primal rhythm that couldn’t have lasted more than a dozen seconds because I just exploded. I made this weird yelping noise that didn’t even sound human.
This was my first time, and I think it was hers too. Afterward, she seemed to be equal parts nervous and excited, but all I remember was this enormous relief that there was no blood, and to a lesser extent, that I had performed. Yes, it was “mission accomplished” (though I had no aircraft carrier to string my message across). Honestly though, I was never nervous. Maybe that’s because it was all over in a magic minute. I lost my virginity to my Marcia, a girl whose real name I’ll never know. To this day, chilly, damp afternoons bring me right back to my first time.
SHARING MY FRIENDS
At home, my older brother was withdrawing further, becoming a genuine recluse. My mom actually talked to the friends that I had, who were mostly older kids. She asked them not to hang out with me as much and spend some of their time with my brother. After all, they were my brother’s age and they went to the same school. I don’t know why, but this didn’t really bother me. I never had trouble making friends, and Kenny could have them all. I’d just go out and make more.
They actually did my mom the favor and started hanging out with him. It worked out, because my brother had some new friends and I still got to hang out with them. Mom was fine with my being out later on school nights because I was with Kenny. In fact, my not being possessive with my friends ended up paying huge dividends because a few houses down, some of them were in a garage band.
When Kenny and I dropped in, my eyes bugged. I thought they were the coolest kids in the world. They were all tuning up their instruments and playing with their amps, and they all had long hair. I really looked up to all of these guys and treated them like they were gods.
They played Rush, Frampton, REO Speedwagon, Humble Pie, all the big rock tunes of the day. Hell, I knew them all; I was a rocker. The drummer had a blue translucent drum set and I remember he would roll joints on the snare drum. They had two guitars, a bass, and drums. It was so fucking loud. It was the first time I felt the actual, physical crush of live rock music. I fell in love with it instantly.
During one of their rehearsals, I did a beer bong with them. It was the first time for me. For those of you who grew up in a convent, a beer bong is a funnel attached to a tube. You put the tube in your mouth, and they pour an entire beer in the funnel. This forces you to swallow it in one gulp.
I was a wild man, determined to impress them all. I chugged six Olde English 800s in a row. I can still remember them cheering me on: Ad-ler. Ad-ler. Ad-ler! I felt like I really belonged. I smiled and laughed, proud I was able to entertain guys I so admired. When it was time for me to head home for dinner, I grabbed my bike. I had a yellow ten-speed at the time. I hopped on, pushed off, and watched in horror as my foot completely missed the pedal. I fell right off doing a header into the lawn. I was so wasted.
Two of the guys heard me fall and rushed over. “Where’s your brother?” Kenny had wisely taken off, probably after my first beer. So these guys helped me up and walked me and my bike back home. When we got to my house, they set my bike down, rang the doorbell, and ran off. To this day, I wish I had run off with them.
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